Hello, I'm drunk

I said to the attractive girl waiting at the bus stop. She laughed and found humour in that and my many drunken comments and questions as I related a night of drunken debauchery at Ireland's capitol of weird: Fibber Magees on Parnell street.
I arrived in Fibbers practically breathless from my habit of walking everywhere with my back stiff in a walk of near-run speeds. I burst in behind two attractive young ladies who were not dressed in a fibbers-like manor, speaking of which: I was not dressed in a way that would be familiar to the inhabitants of the establishment either.
I was wearing a well fit top, which was black with vertical white stripes, I was also wearing a pair of 'easy fit' jeans and leather shoes.
The standard Fibberwear of the Fibbermen (as the regulars are known) is
3 to 5 facial piercings.
2 visible tattoos and 1 large, obscured tattoo that can be exposed later, this will serve as a conversation piece during a lull.
A large black jacket, preferably the kind worn by Neo in the lobby scene of the matrix; failing that a large, loose, fading jean-jacket will suffice.
A band t-shirt, preferably beaten to shreds and displaying the name of an obscure band with terrible vocals.
A pair of big black army boots, if big black army boots are unavailable black boots of the near-platform style with pretend-steel capping bolted on for effect with suffice.
Hair should be died red. Extra points go for creativity in this field.

So clearly my clothing choices, which would have made me perfectly acceptable in snotty clubs across the city; made me stand out here.